


O'Brien's First Contact Mission

by StephaniD



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, Sign Language, Universal Translator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StephaniD/pseuds/StephaniD
Summary: Even in a time of replicators and transporters, sometimes you have to do things the hard way. As Chief of Engineering on DS9, Miles O'Brien is very familiar with 'the hard way'. He stumbles upon an alien the Universal Translator doesn't work for, and ends up trying to help them and their companions express their wants and needs to others on the station.(I finally wrote a DS9 fic not focused on Dax!)





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in s2. I’m really intrigued by the Universal Translator, so this is a combination of TNG 2.05 “Loud as a Whisper”, DS9 2.10 “Sanctuary”, ASL lessons, and some ideas of my own. This is largely a rewrite of “Sanctuary” since I find it to be a very weak episode and would prefer to pretend it didn’t happen, and that this is the DS9 crew’s first experience of the UT not working for a group of aliens.

 

 

O'Brien noticed an unmoving line in the replimat and sighed as he tapped his combadge.   
“O'Brien to Muñiz.”   
“Yes, sir?”   
“When you're done in the Jeffries tubes, come give me a hand with the Replimat replicators.”  
“Got it, Chief.”

“Alright, any clues as to the problem?” O'Brien asked, barely looking at the people at the front of the line as he began inspecting the replicator.   
“The replicator's fine, Chief.” Someone spoke up, drawing his attention. A Bajoran security officer was standing with an alien he'd never seen before. They were an androgynous humanoid, but had smaller ears, a thinner neck, and larger eyes, arms, and hands than most humanoids, plus a second thumb instead of what humans considered their last finger. They were studiously writing or drawing on a small pad of paper.   
“Well, what's wrong if it's not the replicator?”   
“This person is apparently hungry, but the universal translator is having difficulty with their language.”   
“Do you know who they arrived with, can you get someone to translate?” O'Brien suggested.   
“Unfortunately all I've been able to figure out so far is that they can't speak, but they want food and won't leave until they get some.”  
“Well, then, go find a table for the three of us.” O'Brien instructed. He ordered a standard protein, grain, and vegetable dish from the replicator and gave the dish to the alien, and led them after the tan-suited Bajoran. The trio sat and O'Brien opened a comlink again as the alien started to eat.

“O'Brien to Muñiz.”  
“Almost done, Chief.”  
“Good. I need you to make a detour before coming to the Replimat, go to my quarters and get Molly's coloring supplies.”  
“I'm sorry, sir?”  
“My daughter's paper and markers, bring them to the Replimat. They should be on one of the living room tables.”  
“Whatever you say, Chief.”  
“Thanks, Quique.” O'Brien closed the link and opened another.

“O'Brien to Sisko.”   
“What is it, Chief?”   
“The Universal Translator might be acting up. Either that or there's an alien species here that the translator doesn't know what to do with.”   
“Does Odo know?”   
“I'm going to tell him next.”   
“You may want to get the doctor involved, as well.”   
“Good idea, sir.”   
“Keep me informed, Chief.” Sisko closed the comlink and O'Brien turned to the security officer. “Go tell Odo about this.”   
“What about the alien, sir?”   
“What about the alien? They don't seem to be a danger and the language barrier could lead to fights if there are more than this one. Odo needs to know.”  
“Aye, Chief.” They nodded and headed to the security office. O'Brien slowly reached toward the paper and the alien eagerly pushed it into his hand, watching as he failed to understand what they'd written.

“Hey, Quique.” O'Brien waved the man over, his hands full of paper and markers. The alien reached for the art supplies when Muñiz set them on the table, looking to O'Brien, who pushed it into their hands with a nod and a smile. The alien began eating with one hand and drawing with the other.  
“What’s the problem, _jefe_?” Muñiz asked.  
“I don't know if something's wrong with the universal translator. Apparently this alien doesn't communicate verbally, any ideas?”  
“Well, I could run a diagnostic on the translator, but in order to make a patch for it we need to know how they communicate. The translator can't work on written language, so I could look up who on the station has a degree in xenolinguistics to try and translate that.” He nodded toward the pad of paper.  
“Here.” O'Brien slowly took the paper and passed it to Muñiz, eyes on the alien, who pushed the paper to Muñiz. “Find anyone with xenolinguistics training and show it to them, as well as running a diagnostic on the translator just in case. Oh, and ask Dax, too, it's possible one of her past lives knew xenolinguistics.”  
“On it, Chief.”  
“Thanks, Quique.” O'Brien sent Sisko and Bashir an update on what they knew about the alien.

The alien had finished eating and had begun coloring with both hands. They had divided the paper into top and bottom. On the top was a drawing of himself and Muñiz, mouths open and a black scribble connecting their mouths, On the bottom was a drawing of two of the aliens, color swirling around their arms. O'Brien frowned.  
“Can you talk?” He asked, knowing it was futile. He pointed at his mouth. The alien copied him. He pointed at himself. “O'Brien.” He stated. The alien pointed to him, mouthing, then pointed at themself and tapped the inside part of their fists together twice, whistling when their hands touched. O'Brien copied the motion and pointed at the alien, who repeated it, whistling louder. O’Brien copied it, doing his best to whistle on demand. The alien smiled and went back to their drawing. He sighed in frustration and began picking up the markers. The alien joined him hesitantly. He put all the paper together and used it to hold the markers, giving it to the alien. The pair were headed to the infirmary when the alien veered away to listen to one of the musicians along the Promenade. They tapped someone on the shoulder, it turned out to be another of their species, they set the art supplies down and began signing, making lots of sounds, but still no translation from the computer. After a minute they stopped and the other alien started signing and making noise. They pointed to O'Brien and the first alien pointed to their mouth and opened and closed it in the 'O’ shape a couple times before patting their upper arm. They turned to O'Brien, repeating the motions and introducing themself by rubbing the palm of one flat hand on the back of their fist and making an ‘f’ sound. O'Brien copied them, then beckoned both to follow him. The first one seemed to understand that O'Brien was trying to figure out a way to communicate, and brought their friend along to the infirmary.

“Ah, Chief.” Bashir greeted.  
“They're ambidextrous, they can hear, but I don't think they can speak.” O'Brien informed him. “This one with the longer hair is, uh,” he tapped his fists together twice, whistling when his hands touched. “And the one with shorter hair is Fffff,” he rubbed the back of a fist with a flat hand. He set a hand on his friend's shoulder and turned to the aliens. “This is Doctor Bashir.” The aliens looked at each other, signing back and forth, pointing at their mouths and the humans, blowing air through their lips to make b-b-b-b sounds, before seeming to agree to watch, pointing at their eyes and the humans.  
“Well, I'm not sure what you expect me to do.” Bashir shrugged. “I can guess from their larger eyes that their planet is far from their sun, or they live somewhere with little light, a dense forest or underground or something.”  
“Can you scan them and search Federation records or something?”  
“I can try, but since I can't explain to them what I'm doing, we'll have to be very patient.”  
“Julian, I'm the father of a 4 year old, I can be patient.”  
“Yes, but Molly trusts us, and can understand what we're saying.”  
“Here, scan me first, that way they can see it's safe.”

The aliens watched closely as O'Brien lay on a biobed and Bashir scanned his entire body with his medical tricorder.  
“Your rotator cuff is inflamed, Chief.” Bashir informed him as he tapped the screen of the biobed.  
“Yeah, yeah.” O'Brien got up and gestured one of the aliens to go next. The first alien, who O'Brien had started thinking of as Whistles, got on the biobed. They reached for the smaller attachment as Bashir scanned them, but he pulled it away, which they accepted. When he finished, they stood up and signed with Fffff for a few seconds before the second alien lay down for their turn.  
“More data can't hurt.” Bashir shrugged, scanning them, too. He quickly went over the data as the two aliens apparently agreed to refer to him with a b-b-b-b noise and fingers-together shape moved down and up. “Your inferences are correct, Chief. They have functional auditory structures, but no vocal cords or folds, nothing I can see to produce verbal communication aside from fricatives, plosives, and whistling, as we’ve heard. I think it’s the sign component that the translator is having trouble with, I remember reading a report from the _Enterprise D_ few years ago that gestural, textual, and other visual languages provide a problem for the translator.”  
“Well, now what?” O'Brien sighed.  
“I'm not sure. I'm sending my findings to Sisko and Starfleet Medical.”  
“Julian, I can't play babysitter all day.”  
“They seem to be adults of a warp-capable species, I don't see why you'd have to play babysitter.”  
“No-one can understand them. I found Whistles holding up the Replimat because they were hungry but couldn't order food.”  
“What about the other one?”  
“They were listening to one of the Promenade musicians.”  
“Well, if you think they need a babysitter, you'll probably have the job since they trust you. You should tell Sisko.”  
“Yeah. Might as well take them, huh?”  
“The Commander's big on first contact.”  
“Alright, come on you two.” O'Brien gestured the aliens to follow. They looked around Ops eagerly as O'Brien led them through, but didn’t stop following him to Sisko’s office.

“Commander.” O'Brien greeted.  
“Chief. These are the aliens?” Sisko stood, smiling.  
“Yes, sir. They don't appear to be able to understand us, and their language is a mix of sounds and nonverbal so the UT can't work. I haven't heard anything from Muñiz yet on xenolinguists working on their written language.” The aliens were signing and making noise back and forth again, apparently deciding to refer to Sisko by patting their heads, fingers spread. They were also patting their upper arms and shoulders, and moving a claw shape in circles on their heads. O’Brien guessed that was their new name for him, given his hair. Whistles grabbed the coloring supplies from under their arm and sat on the floor to draw. The others gathered around to watch as Whistles drew rough approximations of the busts of Sisko, O'Brien, Bashir, and Muñiz. They put 3 yellow dots next to Sisko, 1 black and 1 yellow dot next to O'Brien and Bashir, and a black circle next to Muñiz.  
“Our pips.” Sisko smiled. “They apparently understand how our ranks are shown.” The aliens then stood and held their hands out flat towards Sisko for a second, palms up. He copied them, and the aliens conversed back and forth for a few seconds. They carefully tore the paper that Whistles had just drawn, separating the pips. They would show the humans a pip drawing before sticking it in their collar, showing that the lower ranked person would hold their palms up, and the higher ranked person would hold their palms down over the lower rank’s hands. People of equal rank would each have their right palm down, left palm up. The aliens held their hands out to Sisko again and he held his hands over theirs, palms down, making them smile. The aliens introduced themselves and Sisko copied them, then introduced himself as Commander Sisko. The aliens hissed as they patted their heads.   
“Pretty sure that’s their name for you, sir.” O’Brien added.   
“Yes, Doctor Bashir informed me that they don’t have vocal cords. Are they from the Gamma Quadrant?”   
“I dunno, sir.”   
“Let’s see if we can find out.” Sisko grinned. He moved the paper and markers to his desk, starting to draw. The aliens watched as he did his best to draw DS9 on the left side of the page and the wormhole in the middle, leaving blank space on the right. He pointed at the blank spot and the aliens a few times. They each grabbed a piece of paper and marker and started drawing. Fffff started drawing a planet, while Whistles drew one of their species. When they had both finished, they put the drawing of the alien so it was standing on the drawing of the planet, on the other side of the wormhole. Fffff tapped the drawing of the planet, whistling a rapidly descending note while making a large sphere shape with their hands. “Well, we know they’re from the Gamma Quadrant, and what they call their planet.” Sisko concluded.   
  
“Commander?” Kira asked as the door opened. “The xenolinguists are here.”   
“Ah, Major, come in, bring them in.” Sisko smiled. He introduced the aliens to everyone, then introduced Kira to the aliens.   
“K.” Whistles looked to Fffff, making the noise in the back of their throat.   
“K.” Fffff agreed, tapping the bridge of their nose. Whistles agreed, copying them.   
“That’s their name for you.” Sisko explained. “They don’t have vocal cords, so they can’t make many of the sounds we can.   
“Sssss.” Whistles was patting their head. “K.” They tapped their nose, then the side of their neck, and pointed at Kira.   
“Her pip?” Sisko asked, picking up one of the pip drawings from the floor. Whistles tapped the drawing, then their neck again, and pointed to Kira. “They’re asking what your ranking is. Hold your hands out, palms up, like this.” Sisko gently showed her, then held his hands over hers for a second. “Now put your hands over the Chief’s.” He instructed. O’Brien held his hands under Kira’s, palm up, shrugging at her to convey that this was weird, but it was the aliens’ culture. The aliens held their palms out to Kira and she held her hands over theirs until they dropped them.   
“I don’t think I’m good at this ‘first contact’ stuff.” She looked to Sisko.   
“We’re all just doing our best right now, Major.”   
“Odo to Sisko.” The Commander’s combadge relayed.   
“Sisko.” He responded.   
“I think I have one of the aliens here. Quark says they tried to join a Dabo game without paying.”   
“I’ll go, sir.” O’Brien volunteered. Sisko nodded.   
“Odo, the Chief is on his way, you can release the alien into his custody.”   
“He should meet us in the infirmary.” Odo informed them, sounding more annoyed than usual. O’Brien sighed and headed out, but turned around at a loud noise. Whistles had started to follow him and had clapped their large hands together to get his attention.   
“You stay here.” He held his hands up. “I’ll be back with a friend.” He pointed at himself and the door, then used his index fingers to show 2 people returning. The aliens seemed to accept that.   
“Okay, xenolinguists, as you can see, when you introduce yourselves to our guests…” Sisko started as O’Brien hurried to the infirmary.

“Julian.” O’Brien greeted as the infirmary doors opened.   
“Miles.”   
“Are they hurt?”   
“The alien isn’t, I’ve just finished mending Quark’s wrist. Apparently the aliens don’t take well to being grabbed. Miles, this is,” Julian clicked his tongue, putting a hand to his cheek. The alien had a scar on one cheek. O’Brien copied his friend, then introduced himself by imitating his curly hair with a hand, mouth in an ‘O’ shape. He gestured to Julian and copied the name the other aliens had given him based on his medical tricorder. “I’ve already introduced myself.” Julian stated.   
“Still. Put your hands out towards me, one up one down.” Miles replied. Julian did as requested and O’Brien held their hands like that for a second, explaining that he was showing that they’re the same rank before turning to the alien. The alien considered for a few seconds, before holding out both hands palm up. O’Brien smiled as he finished the greeting.   
“Odo, I can take this alien with me, right?” O’Brien confirmed.   
“Please do.” He replied gruffly. “And when you find out a way to communicate with them, let this one know that Quark may be pressing charges.”   
“What?”   
“Legally, he is allowed to.” Odo shook his head in dismay. “Though your alien can certainly try to bring counter-charges or claim self-defense if they want.”   
“Okay, Odo.” O’Brien sighed, tapping his combadge. “O’Brien to Sisko, should I bring this alien to your office?”   
“They’ve moved to the wardroom, Chief.”   
“On our way, sir.” He used the other aliens’ names and gestured the scarred alien to follow him.

“Okay, everyone.” O’Brien announced as he entered the wardroom. He introduced the new alien to the xenolinguists, then watched the three aliens draw and converse. Scar did their best to draw the busts of Quark and Odo, giving their names as ‘K k’ with a c-shaped hand to show his large ears, and an ‘o’ shaped mouth with a flat hand moving from chin to crown. The xenolinguists informed O’Brien that they had learned the aliens’ name for their species (two whistles rising in pitch and a palm up flat hand gesturing down the torso), and had determined the aliens’ language to be pictographic, showing the physical motions of the words, and had sent an image of the drawing of their planet to the science division in the hopes that it could be found in the Gamma Quadrant.   
“Why’s that important?” O’Brien asked.   
“We know so little about them, and can’t really communicate, any information is better than none.” One of them responded. O’Brien noticed that only 1 of the 4 xenolinguists was in Starfleet uniform, and they were an ensign. He searched through the many papers the aliens had drawn on, finding the drawing Sisko had done of DS9 and the wormhole, and Fffff’s drawing of their planet. The aliens watched him tear a blank corner off a piece of paper and draw a black circle on it, moving it from the planet through the wormhole to the station. Then he drew a large black circle on a blank piece of paper and slid it to the aliens, tapping on both black circles he’d drawn.   
“You don’t have to just watch.” O’Brien explained as Scar started conversing with the other aliens and drawing what O’Brien hoped would be the ship the aliens arrived on. “Whistles and the Commander and I found it was easiest to communicate by drawing. The Prime Directive doesn’t apply, if that’s what you’re worried about.”   
“Oh, thank goodness.” One of the xenolinguists went to get some more drawing supplies as the others reached to start communicating with their guests, as well. It was quiet except for the sound of markers on paper, and the aliens’ occasional conversation.

“Computer, play music.” O’Brien stated, remembering Whistles and Fffff liking the musician on the Promenade.   
“Please specify music.”   
“Um, instrumental, featuring string instruments.”   
“Playing ancient Earth musician Lindsey Stirling.” The aliens all lifted their heads at the first few notes, grinning, even Scar. Whistles grabbed a blank paper and started drawing something brown. Fffff started a drum beat on the table. O’Brien and the xenolinguists smiled at their guests’ excitement, and at having a potential new avenue of communication. Fffff gestured the name they’d given O’Brien, then started signing. He stared at them, helpless. They whistled the melody of the song and pointed to Whistles’ drawing of some type of wooden stringed instrument.   
“Computer, what instrument is playing right now?”   
“Violin.”   
“Display image on screen.” The computer showed a photo of a violin and bow on the wardroom screen, Fffff walked over and stroked it.

Whistles headed toward the door and O’Brien tried to call after them, but his lips were too dry to whistle. He clapped and they turned to look at him.   
“I need to know what you want.” He muttered. He grabbed a marker and paper and held it out to the alien. They returned and showed him the instrument they’d drawn, then tapped on the ship that Scar was still drawing. “Alright, uh…” He pointed to the two of them then the door, moving both index fingers away from himself and towards the door. Whistles took his hand and led him toward the door. “I’m going with Whistles, I think we’re going to their ship to get an instrument.” He told the others.   
“Alone?” One of the xenolinguists asked.   
“I don’t see a problem.”   
“I think you should bring a security officer, just in case.”   
“I’ll get Odo.” He returned to the table, beckoning to Whistles. The alien frowned at him and pointed to the door. O’Brien signed the alien’s name and pointed to the drawings. They pointed to the door. O’Brien sighed and started drawing. He and Whistles. Two arrows pointing to Odo. Three arrows pointing to the instrument. He showed it to Whistles, who frowned and brought their hand up over their face in their sign for Odo. When O’Brien repeated the sign and pointed at the picture to confirm, Whistles covered Odo’s face with their hand. O’Brien found Whistles’ first drawing, adding a brown-suited figure to the picture of himself and Muñiz. Whistles smiled and tapped the figure. O’Brien led them to the door.

“O’Brien to Sisko.”   
“Yes, Chief?”   
“We’re working on establishing a dialogue with the aliens. I’m accompanying Whistles to their ship, I’m fairly sure we’re retrieving a musical instrument and returning to the wardroom.”   
“Whistles?”   
“The alien whose name involves whistling and tapping your fists together.”   
“Right, right. You’re going to get a musical instrument?”   
“Yes, sir.” O’Brien confirmed, uncertain if this was actually the right thing to be doing now that he was telling the commander about it.   
“While you’re there, please try to see if anyone can translate for you.”   
“Of course, sir.”   
“Anything we can learn about them, you understand.”   
“Yes, sir.”   
“Sisko out.” O’Brien waited a second to sigh in relief, to be sure the comlink had closed. A Bajoran security officer passed them and O’Brien halted her.   
“What are you doing right now?”   
“Standard patrol.”   
“So nothing important?”   
“Standard patrol.” She hedged. “Why?”   
“I need you with me. Chances are I don’t actually need backup, but…”   
“I understand, sir.” She fell in behind them. Whistles pointed at the bridge of their nose and the security officer and smiled.   
“Yeah, the Bajoran officers do tend to be more polite than Odo.” O’Brien chuckled. He pretended not to hear the muffled snicker from behind him.

They stepped onto a freighter vessel and followed Whistles through dim, empty corridors. They ended up at a tiny 4-person bedroom, containing 4 beds recessed into the walls bunk-style, and a tall 8-drawer dresser. Each bed had a different color interior wall, corresponding to 2 drawers in the dresser. Whistles climbed up to one of the upper bunks to more easily access the top drawers. They pulled out a small stringed instrument similar to a violin or ukulele. O’Brien pointed to the lower bunk, Whistles watched in confusion. O’Brien pointed to their bed and signed their name. They agreed. O’Brien pointed to the lower bunk and signed the other aliens’ names. Whistles smiled and confirmed it was Fffff’s bed. Scar’s was the other lower bed, the last bed belonged to someone whose sign name was a trail of tapping along the eyebrows with a popping noise. O’Brien copied the sign name and added the sign for the alien’s species. Whistles frowned and popped their lips as they tapped across their eyebrows again.

Another person leaned into the room, whistling the same note twice. O’Brien turned to find a bald person with dark green skin, and a line of bumps instead of eyebrows. He held a hand out to calm the security officer, who had a hand on her phaser.   
“Oh, hello, I didn’t know *whistles* had guests. I’m Pashk.” The alien smiled.   
“You know them?”   
“And their siblings. Not the easiest to talk with, but they don’t keep me up at night, they work hard when you show them what to do, can’t really ask for better coworkers or roommates.”   
“So you can't understand them.” O'Brien sighed.   
“Sorry.”   
“Are there any others of their species on board?”   
“I've only seen these three, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.”   
“Could we see the crew roster?”   
“We don't have one.” Pashk shrugged. “The Captain might, for paying everyone, but I've never seen it. We only stick around at a place for a few days unless we're hiring, if you're not back to the ship by day 4 you get left behind and no pay.”   
“Is it common for them to have guests?”   
“*Whistles* yeah, they're the most outgoing, they seem to make friends every station we stop at. Fffff is more introverted, and *click* is probably oldest, they get in fights the most. You seem to be their newest friend.”   
“I'm just trying to understand them.”   
“I think it's probably the same for them.”   
“You said the three of them are siblings?”   
“That's just a guess. They mostly get along and I've never seen any of them kissing or anything.”  
“We should get back to the others. Thanks for sharing what you know.” O'Brien nodded to Pashk, and waved Whistles down from their bunk. “Oh, before we go, where’s the toilet?” He turned to Pashk, who showed them. It seemed to be a standard toilet, the aliens should be able to use the ones on the station.

O’Brien thanked the security officer for her help when they left the ship and she wished him luck as she returned to her patrol. When they returned to the wardroom they found all 4 xenolinguists were back, and had colored pencils in addition to markers. They’d drawn pictures, ordered things from the replicator, and called up photos on the viewscreen to help the aliens communicate basic needs, and the aliens had drawn their words for the concept on the same page as the drawings. For words that had been shown on the viewscreen, they had all written their word for the concept on a piece of paper.  
“We’re not sure if this is all drinks, or just water.” One explained. “Bread. Ship. We think this one is specifically DS9, but it’s possible it could mean ‘here’ or ‘station’. It’s a little tough since we can’t be certain what word they think we’re asking for.”   
“Their written language was a lot easier to figure out, though it reads diagonally.” Another chimed in, drawing busts of everyone the aliens had met, as well as the aliens themselves.   
“Diagonally?” O’Brien asked.   
“The first word is top right. The second word is to the left of that. The third word is beneath the first. The fourth word is to the left of the second, fifth below the second, et cetera.” She explained, writing numbers instead of words on a piece of paper. “Triangles might be culturally significant.”  
“Huh.”   
“We’ve almost finished everyone’s name, here’s Major Kira’s.”   
“Is that her nasal ridges?” O’Brien asked.   
“Yup. This one’s yours.”   
“It does make sense, knowing what it’s supposed to show.” He commented. “Oh, before I forget…” He started trying to draw the toilet from the ship as Whistles started playing their instrument and Fffff started drumming along on the table. Whistles supported the instrument against their torso with one thumb of each hand, while their other fingers and thumbs seemed to fly over the strings, producing a bright and complicated song that had everyone smiling.

Scar had just written down their word for toilet and showed them the sign when something started a rapid high-pitched beeping. Whistles and Fffff stopped playing as Scar pulled a small device out of their clothing and stopped the beeping, then signed that they were returning to the ship to sleep. O’Brien wished he had time to learn how to ask if the aliens would be back the next day.   
“I guess their ship is on a different time than the station.” He mused as the aliens left. “Did you want to keep working?”   
“I would.”   
“For another hour or so.”   
“I’ll stick around.”   
“Same here.”   
“I’m going to go see if Engineering needs me, and I’ll need to collect the markers in a few hours. If you need me, you can reach me by comlink.”   
“Aye, Chief.”

That evening found O’Brien sitting at the table, black marker in hand, staring at a blank piece of paper. He had so many questions for the aliens, but how to put those concepts into pictures?   
“Miles, honey, what are you doing?” Keiko asked as she and Molly entered their quarters.   
“There’s these aliens. I basically got stuck babysitting them since their language uses gestures and the Universal Translator can’t work with that.” He started, telling his wife about his afternoon, describing the aliens, showing her the name sign they’d made for him.   
“So I want to ask them about time, but I don’t know how they measure it, or how to draw such an abstract concept. I’m an engineer, I’m used to working with much more concrete stuff than this.”   
“Sounds like you weren’t exactly ‘stuck’ babysitting them.” She teased gently.   
“You’re right. But the xenolinguists are basically kids, and they had no idea what they were doing, and *whistles* seemed to have basically bonded to me.” He explained.   
“Miles, I get it.” Keiko smiled. “The most basic way of telling time is by days, you could draw a sun’s path through a sky? Bajor and DS9 have 26 hour days, you could try showing them an antique Bajoran clock, perhaps?”  
“Can I draw with you, Daddy?” Molly reached up to him.   
“Of course, pumpkin.” He settled her on his lap and looked up to give his wife a kiss. “Thanks for the help, honey. How was your day?”   
“Really good, the kids really liked the lessons.”   
“Oh?”   
“Especially now that we’ve gotten past Calculus for the moment.” She grinned.   
“That’s always a pick-me-up.” He chuckled.   
“What’s that?” Molly asked.   
“What’s what?” O’Brien replied.   
“Calculus.”   
“It’s a very tough type of math.”   
“Worse than subtraction?”   
“Lots worse.” He nodded.   
“Mommy was picking people up because they finished the hard math?”   
“No, uh, in this case ‘pick-me-up’ means something that makes you feel happy, makes you feel like you’re getting picked up.”   
“Okay.” Molly continued coloring.   
“No wonder you’re so good with the aliens, it sounds like your parental instincts were very helpful.” Keiko smiled.   
“No kidding. I think that may be why Commander Sisko had me stay with them so much.”   
“Well, I’m proud of you. You helped someone in need, and committed to getting the job done, even when you felt out of your element.”   
“Thanks, Keiko. Just doing my best.” He smiled, blushing slightly at her praise.   
“If this sort of thing interests you, I’m sure you could take xenolinguistics courses over subspace.”   
“I’m an engineer, I’m not cut out for this sort of thing. Plus, I think I’m too old to go back to school. I appreciate the suggestion though.”   
“Daddy, you can do whatever you put your mind to.” Molly smiled at him.   
“Well said, Molly.” Keiko grinned.   
“I’m just doing this for *whistles*, I don’t expect to use it ever again once their ship leaves.” 


	2. Day 1 Vocabulary

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case this image doesn't show up for anyone, it's one large image showing how the signs from chapter 1 are written. All signs can be seen in chapter 6.


	3. Day 2

Miles was having coffee and breakfast when his combadge relayed a message.   
“Dax to O'Brien.”   
“What do you need, Lieutenant?”   
“Your friends are back, and very curious about Ops.”   
“On my way. Please alert the xenolinguists if you can.”   
“Thanks, Chief.” Dax closed the comlink.   
“Gotta go, hon.” Miles kissed his family goodbye, hurrying out the door with coffee in one hand, markers in the other. 

He entered Ops to find the aliens wandering around, watching the graveyard shift work, Dax and Kira watching them.  
“Hey.” He greeted the women and set his burdens on a monitor top.   
“Hey, we've mostly left them alone. That one was asking for you. Most of the xenolinguists are on their way.” Dax informed him, nodding to Whistles.   
“Thanks.”   
“They remembered me, and I think they asked about Dax's rank, but I honestly have no clue.” Kira added.   
“Lieutenant, would you like to be introduced?” Miles smiled.   
“Oh, very much so.” She grinned. Miles clapped his hands and signed the aliens’ word for themselves, waving them over. They eagerly gathered around. He introduced each of them to Dax, then showed he and the lieutenant were (technically) the same rank, before he introduced her to the aliens. 

“Lieutenant Jadzia Dax.” He enunciated. The aliens frowned and signed among themselves, moving their hands across their faces, pointing at their mouths. After a few seconds of debate they settled on using both hands to tap down their faces in imitation of her spots.   
“Sh. Sh.” Fffff suggested, pointing at their mouth.   
“T. T.” Scar countered. They looked to Whistles, who frowned and turned to Dax.   
“Sh.” They pointed at their mouth, smiling and frowning a few times, then doing the same for “T.” Dax looked at O'Brien.   
“I think they're asking which sound you'd like to be associated with you. 'Sh’ for Jadzia, probably, or ‘T’ for Dax.” He reasoned. Whistles smiled and pointed at him.   
“Oh, wow, okay.” She blinked in surprise. “Probably ‘Sh’.”   
“Sh.” Whistles repeated.   
“Sh.” She confirmed, grinning. Scar stepped forward.   
“Sh.” They signed her name and held their hands out palm up. Jadzia signed Scar's name and held her hands above theirs, doing the same for the other two aliens.   
“I have to admit, this is the one of the most exciting first contacts I've experienced.” She grinned and held her hands behind her back.   
“Yeah, exciting for you.” Miles grumbled good-naturedly.   
“Oh, Chief, you're doing a great job.” Kira assured. 

“K. Sh.” Whistles got the ladies’ attention. They gestured to O'Brien and signed his name, whistling a single note. O'Brien pointed at his mouth and whistled to confirm. Whistles smiled and whistled the same note.   
“I think they changed my name again.” He told the ladies before signing Odo's name. Scar whistled a low note. O'Brien whistled the same note as his own name. Scar frowned and used an index finger to show a low frequency wave coming from their mouth, whistling the low note, then signed Odo's name while still whistling.   
“Does Odo have a lower voice than you?” Dax asked.   
“Odo's is certainly more gravely.” Kira added.    
“None of them like Odo very much,” O'Brien informed, “since I think he might've tried to arrest Scar over a language barrier misunderstanding.”   
“What happened with that?” Kira frowned.   
“What I gathered is that Scar tried to play Dabo with no money, Quark grabbed them to stop them and Scar grabbed back, hurting Quark's wrist.”   
“Quark probably played it up for sympathy.” Kira shrugged.   
“Quark? Trying to get sympathy from Odo?” Dax chuckled.   
“Or Bashir.” Kira replied. “I may be wrong, I'm just saying I wouldn't put it past him.” They looked up as Fffff signed to O’Brien that they wanted to go to the table room.    
“We’re going to head to the wardroom, I guess.”    
“I’ll inform the Commander when he gets here.” Dax grinned.   
“I should send Engineering a message that they'll have to send someone to the morning briefing.”   
“We've got it, Chief, go.” Kira smiled. 

In the wardroom, O'Brien ordered a stack of blank paper from the replicator before topping up his coffee. He tried to ask the aliens if they wanted food, but they were interested in his coffee. Fffff hesitantly reached for his cup.   
“Computer, three cups of coffee. One black, one sweet, one light and sweet.” He ordered. The computer chirped and three steaming mugs of coffee appeared in the replicator. He set them on the table and watched as the aliens cautiously sipped them, then started signing to each other. Their sign for coffee seemed to be twisting a fist into their other hand, showing the shape of a cup, with a high-pitched whistle. They all liked the black coffee best. Whistles encouraged Fffff to try a big sip of the light and sweet, then grinned hugely at Fffff closing their eyes tight and holding their jaw in reaction. O'Brien shook his head at their antics as Scar asked him for 2 more mugs of the black coffee. Soon after, the xenolinguists arrived. 

“Ensign Aue couldn’t take today off.” One of them informed O’Brien, setting all their drawings from the previous day on the table. “Not being in Starfleet, we have more flexibility.”    
“Wait, are none of you certified xenolinguists?” He asked. They all shook their heads.    
“No, Chief, but we have taken classes, so I guess we’re the best resources on the station for now.”    
“Fair enough. I can try to get Aue here if he wants to be, and if you think we need him.” O’Brien offered.    
“I don't think we’ll need him.” 

“Oh, I meant to ask Pashk where these three are from.” He remembered, seeing the drawing of their planet. Scar looked up and made a popping noise. O’Brien confirmed, signing their name. He suggested going to find Pashk, Scar smiled and gestured him towards the door. “Computer, play instrumental music focusing on drums.”   
“Playing ancient Earth African tribal music.” He smiled as the music started and the aliens started drumming along as the xenolinguists drew. 

O’Brien headed to the aliens’ quarters on their ship. He almost ran into a small alien in the dim hallways, who asked who he was and what he was doing on the ship.    
“I’m Chief of Engineering on the station, I’m looking for Pashk.”    
“Nir’s in neyr room, last I saw.” The alien pointed.    
“Thanks.” He nodded and continued on his way. “Pashk?” He knocked on the closed door.    
“Yes? Oh, you’re back, Friend!” Pashk stuck neyr head out the next door.    
“My name’s Miles. Could I ask some more about your roommates?” He stood just inside neyr room.    
“Sure, but I only know so much.” Nir hopped up to lay on neyr bunk.    
“How long have they been working here?”    
“3 trips. So about 15 or 20 days.”    
“Where were they hired from?”    
“Some satellite above a planet, I don’t remember the name.”    
“Was it in the Gamma Quadrant?”    
“Yeah.”    
“Do you know if anyone else on board knows their language? How do they communicate with the captain or anyone?”    
“No clue. All I know is my previous 2 roommates got left behind, probably drunk, and at the next stop those three moved in.” Nir shrugged.    
“Any idea how much longer you’ll be at DS9?”    
“Tomorrow will be our last day of recreation, we’ll leave the next morning.”    
“Alright, thanks Pashk.” He headed to the door.    
“Have fun with *whistles*.” Nir smiled as nir pulled a padd-type device from under neyr pillow and started to read. 

O’Brien returned to the wardroom and found the xenolinguists had had the same idea as he did, trying to figure out how the aliens measured time. They’d learned the signs for ‘day’ and ‘tomorrow’, but were struggling to conceptualize things like ‘week’, ‘month’, ‘season’, ‘year’.   
“We don’t know how they measure time, we’re probably drawing it all wrong.” One sighed. O’Brien picked up a drawing of a Bajoran month, 6 days to a week. He pointed to a square and the aliens signed ‘day’. The next square was ‘tomorrow’. He slid his finger across all the squares in the row. They stared at him, frowning.   
“They may not have the concept of a week.” One of the xenolinguists suggested. Fffff hesitantly held up a hand, their interior thumb and index finger touching, other fingers and exterior thumb extended. A xenolinguist pushed them a piece of paper and dark colored pencil to try and explain. Fffff drew a series of dots grouped together, first one, then two, up to ten. Next to each group, they drew the pictograph for that number.   
“Six.” Another xenolinguist sighed. “Bajor's week has six days. But Earth’s has seven!” He realized. “Right?” O'Brien nodded, smiling. “Computer, display 4 images. Top right image: this month’s Earth calendar.” It appeared on the viewscreen. “Top left image: Earth. Bottom right image: this month's Bajoran calendar. Bottom left image: Bajor.” The computer put the requested images on the screen. He pointed to the current Earth day and signed day. The aliens agreed. They agreed that the next day was tomorrow. He did the same for the Bajoran calendar, then pointed to the Earth week and told the aliens “Week.” He did the same for the Bajoran month, then pointed to them both again. “Week.” He insisted. “Week.” Fffff started drawing lines on a piece of paper, drawing a 5x5 grid. They pointed to one row and held up a hand, fingers spread, moving it sideways.   
“Makes sense that all their counting would be structured around 5s and 10s.” Another xenolinguist mentioned. Fffff circled the month with their finger, then held up a hand with fingers spread and moved it in a circle. O'Brien copied the sign for 'day’ into a day on the aliens’ calendar. Whistles took over, writing 'tomorrow’ in the next box, 'week’ to the right of the row, and 'month’ above the grid. While they were doing that, O'Brien drew a smiling face and frowning face.   
“I think they use happy and sad as a kind of yes/no dichotomy.” He explained. He turned to the aliens and pointed to his mouth, smiling and frowning before tapping on his drawing. Fffff showed them a cupped hand on their torso for the smile with a fast high-pitched b-b-b noise, the pictograph only an upward curve. The frown was a downward cupped hand with a low-pitched b-b-b, pictograph a downward curve. Then Fffff drew both curves together, like an oval with the sides chopped off. They demonstrated twisting their hand to quickly sign 'yes’ 'no’ 'yes’ 'no’ while blowing air through lips, b-b-b noise rising in pitch. 

Fffff got an idea and started writing on a piece of paper. O'Brien recognized Fffff's name and Scar's name, as well as 'coffee’ and 'yesno’ twice, 'yes’, and 'no', but couldn't make sense of the meaning of the words together. Fffff signed to the other aliens and showed them their writing, but the signing was too quick and contained too many signs O'Brien didn't know for him to follow that, either. Whistles sat down with the paper, gesturing O'Brien and the xenolinguists to look over their shoulder. On the other side of the table, Fffff and Scar slowly acted out a conversation while Whistles pointed to the words. Fffff signed Scar's name, Whistles pointed to Scar's name in the upper right corner. Fffff signed coffee and pointed to a mug on the table, Whistles pointed to the word, to the left of Scar's name. Fffff signed yesno, Whistles pointed to it, rightmost on the second line. Scar signed yes, Whistles pointed to the word, second to the left on the top line, as Fffff passed Scar the mug and they took a sip. Whistles pointed to a blank spot in the middle of the second line.    
“Must be how they separate sentences.” One of the xenolinguists noted. Scar put the mug down to sign Fffff's name, Whistles pointed to the rightmost word on the third row. 'Coffee’ again, the leftmost word on the top row followed by yesno, leftmost word on the second row. Fffff signed no, Whistles pointed to the leftmost word on the third line. The aliens turned to the others, who smiled and did their best to sign 'yes’.    
“Apparently we’ve advanced enough in our vocabulary to start learning sentence structure.” A xenolinguist commented.    
“Yeah, but it’d be nice if we could figure out how to communicate concepts we can’t draw.” Another replied.    
“Well, in another 2 days their ship is leaving.” O’Brien informed them. The xenolinguists turned to look at him. “I talked to their roommate Pashk, they’re basically on shore leave. Tomorrow’s their last day on the station, they leave the morning after and if anyone’s not on board, oh well, they’ll hire new people at the next station.”    
“Is that legal?” One of the xenolinguists asked.    
“I don’t know if the captain’s from a Federation or allied world, and if you want to try to do anything, you don’t have much time.” He replied.    
“They’re here on shore leave, we shouldn’t be cooping them up in a conference room, what if they want to explore the Promenade and buy things?” Another objected.    
“If you want to do that, I should go check with Engineering, I’m sure they need my help with something.” He frowned. 

“ _ Jefe _ , you done with the alien?” Muñiz smiled as O’Brien grabbed his toolkit.    
“Not quite, but there’s some kids about your age that are going to try to help the three of them communicate on the Promenade. What have I missed?” He grinned at the younger man.    
“Three? I was just going to go repair the sonic shower in 3H-72.”    
“Again?”    
“Ferengi have sensitive ears, and somehow this shower keeps having issues and giving Gan headaches.”    
“Well, let’s go see if we can fix the problem permanently this time, eh Quique?” O’Brien clapped Muñiz on the shoulder.    
“Yes, sir.” Muñiz grinned. 

“Toral to Chief O’Brien.” His combadge relayed the message from one of the xenolinguists. O’Brien tapped it.   
“O’Brien here.”   
“Chief, we were wondering if you wanted to have lunch with us at about noon? The aliens are asking for you.”   
“Sure, any ideas for where?”   
“Quark’s?”   
“I’ll do my best to meet you at about 1300.”   
“See you there.” 

Ensign Aue showed up for lunch too. O'Brien was a little worried about Scar at Quark’s, but the xenolinguists told him that Scar had already made up for any bad feelings by losing at Dabo a couple of times. Fffff had bought a new shirt from Garak, who had been very gracious about the aliens’ language barrier, as polite with them as he was with any other customer. The waiter brought written menus for the Humans and Bajorans, and photo menus for the aliens. The civilian xenolinguists told O'Brien that when the aliens had wanted to split up, they'd done so, which led to Kirjath hanging out with Scar, trying to explain Dabo, Chinneroth wandering the Promenade shops with Fffff, and Toral following Whistles to listen to all the musicians on the Promenade, including the Klingon chef with his accordion. They all laid out the new drawings they'd done, and showed everyone the new words they’d learned, including colors, one that was apparently for both sales and trades, their sign for music, liking and not-liking something, and the sign for Dabo that Kirjath was pretty sure Scar made up. After ordering lunch they caught Aue up on what he'd missed that morning, and cleared up the papers as their meals arrived.

As they ate, the aliens signed back and forth, occasionally drawing for O’Brien and the xenolinguists. Whistles waved to get O’Brien’s attention, and signed at him. He stared and frowned, the alien using multiple signs he didn’t know.   
“You need to remember I don’t really know your language.” He said in explanation, holding a marker out to Whistles. They frowned in frustration and signed to Fffff. Fffff watched, then turned to O’Brien to try communicating. They signed food, then a swiping-across motion like a cat pushing something off a table with a simple blowing sound, signed Whistles’ name, then gestured watching O’Brien before asking yesno. “You want to watch me work?” He asked Whistles, signing what he could. Whistles smiled and signed yes. O’Brien shrugged and copied him. If the alien wanted to follow him all over the station and watch him make the Cardassian and Federation tech work together, they could do that as long as they stayed out of the way. They spent of the meal determining that the swiping motion meant ‘done’ or ‘finished’, then folding paper gliders when Chinneroth made one to show ‘finished’ and they all started trying to make more elaborate or efficient gliders. The younger group members had been tossing them across their larger table, until one swerved and hit Quark in the ear.   
“Hey!” He rubbed his ear and approached the table, tightly holding the glider. “Please refrain from throwing things. If you’re finished with your meal, I’m sure you have things that need your attention.” He frowned and dropped the crumpled glider to the table.   
“Right. It’s past 1400, Aue and I need to get back to work. Toral, you want to accompany Whistles with me?” O’Brien asked as they all paid for their meals.   
“Sure, Chief.” She helped the aliens read their receipts and pay for their meals in latinum before bidding farewell to Scar, Kirjath, Ffff, and Chinneroth. While they did that, O’Brien wrote Aue a quick excuse for returning to his shift late. 

Toral stood to the side unobtrusively and tried to draw explanations as Whistles watched O’Brien work and pointed at things for explanations.    
“Sisko to O’Brien.” His combadge relayed.    
“O’Brien.”    
“Chief, I just wanted to let you know that Starfleet is requesting a report on everything we know about the aliens and their language as soon as we can get it to them.”    
“We don’t know much, sir.”    
“I understand, but you know how Starfleet is.”    
“Right. The aliens leave day after tomorrow, we should be able to collaborate on a report about their language by the end of that day. The next morning at the latest.”    
“Thanks, Chief. Sisko out.”    
“A report on their language?” Toral spoke up.    
“Yeah. We’ll have to record video explaining everything we learned. Hope they’re not expecting much.” O’Brien sighed. “Doctor Bashir will probably include the scans he took of Whistles and Fffff as well.”    
“Are these aliens and their language really that important?” She asked.    
“Eh. Starfleet likes gaining and sharing knowledge. Ever hear Odo complain about having to keep a Security Log?” He chuckled.    
“No, why?”    
“He’s not a fan.”    
  
Just as O’Brien finished his shift, Scar, Kirjath, Ffff, and Chinneroth arrived. Scar told O’Brien they were returning to their ship, he asked if they wanted to get food, they replied they were returning to the ship. O’Brien asked if they’d see each other again tomorrow and Scar signed yes. He signed to the aliens that he’d see them tomorrow, the xenolinguists following his lead.    
“Oh, before you all leave, Commander Sisko informed me today that Starfleet wants a report on everything we know about the aliens and their language. I told him we’d have it done by the end of the day, day after tomorrow.”    
“Chief, what if we can’t make it that day? My boss is getting frustrated that I keep saying I can’t come to work.” Chinneroth asked. O’Brien sighed and rubbed his forehead.    
“We’ll all meet up tomorrow, around twenty hundred hours if that works, and make sure everyone who can and wants to be in the report knows everything we’ve learned. Go to work tomorrow if you need to.”    
“Thanks, Chief. Twenty hundred works for me.” Chinneroth smiled.    
“I can make it.” Toral nodded.    
“Same here.” Kirjath smiled.    
“Alright. I’ll see you all tomorrow at Quark’s at twenty hundred, if you can make it tomorrow morning great, if not I understand. I’ll send Ensign Aue a message letting him know the plan.”    
“I didn’t learn any new signs this afternoon, so I’ll see you tomorrow, Chief.” Kirjath said. “Here’s all the drawings from this morning, just in case I can’t make it for the day.”    
“Thanks Kirjath.” O’Brien accepted the small stack of papers from each of them.    
“See you.” They all headed their separate ways.    
  
“Hey honey, how are the aliens?” Keiko smiled as she entered their quarters.    
“Good, learned some more words.” O’Brien replied from the couch as Molly ran over to sit on his lap. “One of them watched me work after lunch, one of the xenolinguists tried to draw and explain what I was doing. Tomorrow’s their last day on the station, and the day after Sisko wants us to put together a report on the aliens and their language for Starfleet.”    
“What did you draw, Daddy?” Molly pointed to the stack of drawings on the coffee table.    
“Daddy and the xenolinguists, people who study alien languages, have been drawing to communicate with the aliens since they can’t talk like we can.” He explained, spreading the drawings out. He found the bust of himself that Chinneroth had drawn, with the sign written in the top right corner in brown marker. “This is the aliens’ word for me.” He signed it, omitting the whistle.    
“For your hair!” She cried, smiling.    
“That’s right.”    
“What’s that one?” She pointed.    
“That means ‘done’. Want to hear a silly story about that?” He tried to distract her from asking about every piece of paper on the table. She grinned and nodded, scooting back on his lap. He told his family about figuring out what the sign means, folding paper gliders in Quark’s, and Quark politely but firmly suggesting they leave when he got hit in the ear.    
“Did Quark get hurt?” Molly asked.    
“Nah, he didn’t even go see Doctor Bashir.”    
“But even if it didn’t hurt, getting hit in the ear isn’t fun, especially for a Ferengi.” Keiko added. “I’m sure Daddy apologized to Quark, right?”    
“Of course.” He lied smoothly. It was important to instill good manners in his daughter.    
“Molly, let’s let Daddy rest until dinner’s ready.” Keiko suggested.    
“I’ll play with you after dinner, sweetheart.” He kissed his daughter’s head. 


	4. Day 2 Vocabulary

  


	5. Day 3

The next morning O’Brien arrived at Ops early, meeting the aliens there. In the wardroom he asked if they wanted coffee, they all did. Once Toral and Kirjath arrived and told him Chinneroth and Aue weren’t going to be there, he explained that he thought letting the aliens try playing different instruments in a holosuite would be fun for them. After an hour of trying to communicate through drawing how a holosuite worked, they agreed to just show the aliens and see how it went.    
  
“Hey Quark, an hour in a holosuite.”    
“Got it, Chief. What program do you want?”    
“Do you have any musical programs for me and my friends?” He pointed to the aliens and xenolinguists waiting nearby.    
“Oh, trying to become better friends with the aliens, huh?” Quark chuckled.    
“Quark.” O’Brien warned.    
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the missus. My services are completely confidential.”    
“Alright, no program. We’ll just call up what we need. I’m not sure how long we’ll stay, we’ll start with an hour.”    
“I get it.” Quark grinned. O’Brien sighed and paid for the hour.    
  
They entered the holosuite and O’Brien called for the computer to ensure it was working. The holosuite chirped in response.    
“Create musical instruments: Earth guitar, Klingon guitar, Earth violin, Earth drum, Vulcan lute, Klingon accordion, Bajoran tivara.” He listed all the instruments he could think of off the top of his head.    
“Please specify: Earth drum. Options: African drum, bongo drums, 5-piece drum set-”    
“5 piece drum set is fine.” O’Brien interrupted the computer. The instruments appeared, all but the drum set floating in midair. He gestured for the aliens to go ahead as they grinned. Fffff made it to the drums first, he’d thought that would be their favorite, Whistles grabbed the Earth guitar, Scar the tivara. Astoundingly quickly, the aliens had figured out the instruments and were improvising together and sounding good.  
“Chief, I think we'll be alright if you want to go to work.” Toral told him.  
“Alright. We can meet up for lunch again. Feel free to get me on comms if you need.” He waved goodbye at the aliens, who frowned, but continued playing. 

O'Brien’s morning was fairly uneventful, aside from a series of circuits that didn’t seem to want to cooperate, no matter what he tried. It wasn’t central to station functions, however, so he tried to view it as a challenge rather than annoyance. After lunch he’d see what Cardassian tools he could scrounge up to try.    
  
At lunch the xenolinguists said the aliens tried out multiple instruments in the holodeck, that they’d all taken it in turns to pay for more holodeck time, and that the aliens had seemed disappointed that they couldn’t take the holograms out of the holosuite. The aliens communicated that they wanted to buy some instruments, Scar being very interested in the tivara, and Fffff the bongos.  
“We should be able to find some musical instruments before tonight, right, Chief?” Kirjath asked.  
“We can certainly replicate them.” He replied. They agreed that they’d check every shop on the Promenade before replicating instruments. 

O’Brien was on his third try of the circuits with the Cardassian decoupler when his combadge relayed a message from Odo.   
“Odo to O’Brien.”   
“O’Brien.” He sighed. “It's the aliens, isn't it?”  
“Correct, Chief. If you would come explain to them that fundraising on the Promenade is forbidden without a permit, we'd all appreciate it.”  
“Can't the xenolinguists? Kirjath and Toral should be with them.”  
“They're struggling, and the aliens are asking for you.”  
“I'll be there in a few minutes. Do they have drawing supplies?”  
“Yes.”  
“Alright, Odo, I'm on my way.” O'Brien closed the comlink and waved an ensign over. “This sequence has been fighting me all day. I've done just about everything I can think of. Try to think of something new.” He put the decoupler in their hand and headed to the Promenade. 

He spotted the group by Garak's Clothiers and headed over. Odo was holding a hat. The aliens started trying to sign to O'Brien when he was still a few meters away, he held up his hands to stop them.  
“Odo said something about fundraising?” He asked the xenolinguists.  
“Fffff and *click* bought instruments, *whistles* got theirs from their ship, and they bought that hat from Garak's.” Toral explained. “They started playing here and people would toss a couple slips of latinum in their hat. We didn't know they needed a permit.”  
“Odo, does this really count as fundraising? They're not donating the money to a cause, they're- they're being paid for providing a service.” O'Brien reasoned.  
“It doesn't matter where the funds are going, the point is that they're raising funds, and according to station regulation 15-26, paragraph seven, you need a permit.” 

“Gentlemen, lady, undisclosed.” Garak spoke suddenly from the door of his shop, just behind them. Toral and Kirjath startled a bit. “If I may ask you to please take your conversation somewhere that doesn't obstruct traffic on the Promenade, specifically my shop?” He smiled. Odo 'harrumphed’. O'Brien suspected that Garak had spoken up because their conversation didn't make for good eavesdropping material.  
“Let's read station regulation whatever it was, then. Maybe it will help us solve this.” O'Brien suggested, hoping it would explain what fundraising was. The group went to a public computer terminal nearby and Odo pulled up the station regulations.  
“15-26 paragraph seven states 'All fundraisers must be submitted at least 2 Bajoran weeks in advance to receive a permit stating that the, uh, charity is legitimate, and can be trusted to spend donated money in accordance with their espoused goals.” Odo read aloud, then cleared his throat and turned back to the group. “My apologies Chief, xenolinguists, uh, aliens.”  
“You were just doing your job.” Toral replied, smiling hesitantly.  
“I ought to be better at it.” He grumbled, crossing his arms.  
“Well, you're only Bol- I mean, um, we all make mistakes.” Kirjath stumbled over the platitude. O'Brien chuckled at finding out other species had a similar saying to 'you're only Human’.  
“So, Odo, the aliens are allowed to be paid for providing music on the Promenade?” O'Brien asked.  
“Yes.” He grumbled, handing Scar the hat back.  
“Thanks, Odo.” O'Brien smiled as the Security Chief walked away. Scar signed that they didn't like Odo and O'Brien sighed, unable to think of a way to draw and explain what just happened. 

He listened to the aliens play until Scar's timer went off and they had to say goodbye. Whistles grabbed the hat from the floor and stuck it on their head, smiling as a slip of latinum got stuck halfway to freedom by their ear. O'Brien chuckled and the group walked to their ship. O'Brien waved goodbye, Toral and Kirjath were less restrained, hugging the aliens.  
“Alright, I should return to Engineering. See you tonight.” O'Brien told the others. 

He found the ensign he'd told to fix the sequence of circuits sitting in the same spot, tools scattered around the floor.   
“You're relieved, Ensign.” O'Brien chuckled.  
“I'm sorry, sir, nothing I tried worked.”  
“Same thing happened to me. What'd you try?” 

At twenty hundred hours, O'Brien met up with Toral, Kirjath, Chinneroth, and Aue at Quark's, they shared drinks and knowledge before they recorded everything they'd learned about the aliens and their language. He had to help some of them, since it was their first time, but they had their report to Sisko in just a few hours.

O'Brien entered the freighter with no problem and headed to the aliens’ room. The door was open so he knocked on the wall and stuck his head in.  
“Miles? What are you doing here?” Pashk asked from neyr bunk as Whistles jumped down from their bunk to hug him.  
“Uh, hey.” O'Brien patted Whistles' back awkwardly. “I wanted to give you this.” He told the alien, holding out all the drawings the group had done over the past few days, colored pencils resting on top. Whistles accepted them with a huge grin. “Bye, Pashk.” He said, Fffff and Scar waved goodbye as O'Brien left. 

“Welcome back, honey.” Keiko smiled. “How'd it go?”  
“Good, good.” O'Brien gave her a quick kiss. “Our report is submitted, I gave Whistles all the drawings we'd done, their ship is leaving early tomorrow morning. Everything's good.”  
“Will Odo be submitting a report?”  
“I dunno. I expect that he'll be making his security reports within the next few days, if Sisko wants something specific to the aliens, I imagine he'll just ask Odo to record it.”  
“Good. I think I'm going to head to bed early.”  
“Goodnight, Keiko.” He smiled.  
“Goodnight, Miles.” 


	6. Vocabulary (all)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All signs are shown from signer's perspective, right-handed (because I'm a righty). Feel free to ask if you have questions!

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 didn't add any new signs, but here's a list of all the signs I came up with for this story, as well as grammar explanations and some signs that I invented but didn't make it into the plot. I may make a video of this vocab if people want it.


End file.
